


The Negotiation

by Haunt_Haunt_Haunt



Category: Monster Prom (Visual Novel), Vampire: The Masquerade
Genre: Anarchs Kinda, As in Damien is Drinking the Vamp's Blood, Black Hand, Blood Drinking, Blood Play, Canon-Typical Violence, Commissioned Work, Contracts, Dom Damien, F/M, Humiliation, I'M BACK BITCHES!, It Just Happened Okay?, Penetration, Sabbat (Vampire: The Masquerade), Shameless Smut, Tremere Antitribu, blowjob, but it works?, secondhand embarassment, they are just there, weird crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 10:46:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21298178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haunt_Haunt_Haunt/pseuds/Haunt_Haunt_Haunt
Summary: Ginger is just a normal girl. If you consider a blood drinking walker of the night normal. Oh, and she's magical and an elite soldier in Caine's army. So why did she summon a demon?
Relationships: Damien LaVey/Original Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	The Negotiation

**Author's Note:**

> I own none of the obviously copyrighted characters, factions, clans, yadda yadda. Don't sue me, okay? I have no money and I look terrible in orange.
> 
> ALSO! So, here's the thing, folks. Monster Prom is a great game, but the devs are absolutely terrible people. I know because they personally drove me out of a moderating position on their Discord servers. I took a hiatus from Monster Prom fics because of how they hurt me, but fuck it, I want to reclaim something I love, so this is me coming back? Some of you may actually already know me. Expect more Damien content in the future, and keep being your worst self.

Arsaga’s on Dickson Street was like most of the coffee shops in Fayetteville. It was employee owned, they used properly and ethically sourced ingredients, and of course, the coffee was a blend of hipster ingenuity and old mainstays. They had CBD coffee with buckwheat in it, they had horchata mixed with coffee and condensed milk, and they had a Bing cherry Italian soda. This was just the summer menu too. But it wasn’t summer. It was a cool night in fall. The trees had turned to a vibrant orange and red, which was a real bonus to living around this area. Hardwoods changed beautiful colors this time of year.

Dickson Street itself was a little unique. The whole street was situated right in front of the college campus, and it was chockfull of bars, restaurants, and even two hookah bars. It was as unique as the city it belonged to, a little tiny blue state in the middle of Arkansas. It was a liberal paradise, complete with its complete acceptance of everyone except the poor.

There were several homeless people on Dickson Street, usually sitting alongside the road itself, dressed in their warmest clothing, and talking like a community, playing music for tips, and laughing and yelling at people on the street. There were about five of them, and that’s why she was there. She was there to watch the Dickson Street Anarchs. They were a gang, or a coterie, or whatever they called their packs, and they had been really good at bothering the Camarilla in the area. The Anarchs were fucking annoying, but in this instance, they were good for business, so she had been dispatched to make sure that when the Camarilla sent their inevitable enforcers, she could help them out and probably punch a hole in their precious Masquerade while she was here. That’s what the Black Hand does, anyway. Draw a few hunters to the area, have them wipe out the Camarilla, and in five years, when the hunters leave, the Sabbat could move in and take up residence.

Sure, it was risky for her to operate alone like this. She was well aware that the closest pack was in Fort Smith, a good hour away. She hadn’t brought her pack with her either. She was 100% alone, with a giant fucking triple goddess moon on her god damned forehead. It glowed a sickly green, and anyone that looked at her aura would see it. It was kinda hella noticeable. Then, they’d see the crescent moon tattooed on her right palm too, so like, it would probably be a good idea to keep a low profile until she needed to act. Then, she could just sit where she was and conjure a pillar of fire across the street. Those kinds of theatrics always brought out the best sides of really anyone. The fear, the rage, the looting, it was all useful. In this particular instance, breaking the Silence of the Blood would be a necessary and useful evil, gaining Caine’s children even more ground, and it’d terrify the piss out of the Cammie Tremere to know that one of the old clan was around here. Not a Telyav, not a weird Pander, a true, very powerful and venerable Tremere. Goratrix junior, as it were. Except she wasn’t very old or veneerable. She was still technically a Neonate, only fifty, including her human years, even if she had diablerized her way down to the ninth generation Cainite she was. She was one of the youngest on the Hand, so she was going to do this job and do it well.

They weren’t doing anything though. They were really just boring as fuck. They were still obviously holding to their Humanity, and damn, she had worked so hard to abandon hers and adopt the Path of Orion, yet here it was, almost stifling. Humanity was difficult. She got served her coffee and wrapped her cold hands around it, appreciating the warmth, and also concealing her crescent. She didn’t get to feel warm anymore, but this was almost as good. It was better than the constant chill. She lifted the glass and took a sip. It was a warm burnt honey and citrus coffee, with a chocolate coin melted in the middle. She used to have such an appreciation for this stuff, back when she was alive. Now it wasn’t quite right. She knew that blood existed, and it was delicious, and it was better than coffee would ever be. That sucked sometimes. She glanced over and watched the Anarchs. One of them pulled out a yo yo and started doing tricks. She needed some way to rally them and get them to strike at the Camarilla, but she was drawing blanks.  
She noticed a hint of cinnamon in the air, but wrote it off as being in a coffee house, and then jumped in surprise when a guy just sat across from her. He was the cinnamon smell. Cinnamon, cardamom, and a hint of cherry. He was cute, with red skin, a thin and swishing red tail with a spade at the end, bright yellow eyes, dark hair, and he had horns, but one looked like it had been broken. Otherwise, he was wearing a white tee shirt with a denim jacket, and jeans with a wallet chain. She wasn’t at all shocked by his appearance. It was Halloween, and that reminded her that she was gonna miss Samhain this year. They were holding it in Brazil. It didn’t matter. A stranger had sat across from her, and she was gonna eat him if he didn’t move.

“Can I help you?” She asked, eyeing him, but keeping the Anarchs in the corner of her eye.

“I was gonna ask you the same thing,” he said with a blink. His teeth were sharp, like daggers, and his voice was remarkably light for his build. He looked pretty stout, like he lifted a couple of times a week, though he wasn’t ripped by any means. Probably just the arms then, though, it didn’t look like he skipped leg day. She could bounce a quarter off that ass. He looked like a college student, but there was something about him… he just wasn’t quite right. There was just a miasma of wrongness there.

“I… You sat at my table,” she said.

“Yeah, that’s where civilized persons sit to talk about business. Would you rather I was on my knees? I don’t work that way.”

“I… What!?” She asked, taken aback by that last bit. Who was this spicy boy, and why was he talking to her? He had her attention now, though she was still aware of the Anarchs across the way.

“I swear, when people summon me, it’s usually to do business. They all think I’m some kind of incubus or some shit. Like, god damn, I’m a prince of fucking Hell, not a whore here to check the box on your demon kink, not to shame sex workers of course.”

She was actually turning red. “I… I beg your pardon!?” She asked, for a moment forgetting that she was an elite agent of the Black Hand, and that she had a job to do. She quickly remembered, trying to look impassive again.

“Christ your daft. Do I have to spell it out for you? You’re Virginia, right? Virginia Fitzgerald?”

“I prefer Ginger, who’s asking?”

He looked at her like she was an idiot. “Generally, when you summon a demon, and it doesn’t work right away, they’re usually busy. Did you not read the fine print? Three to five business days. We aren’t here to cater to you people. Besides, it’s Halloween, and I’m a spicy red baby. I can’t just walk down the street on days that aren’t Halloween.”

Oh. This was about the ritual she had cast a few days before, when she fucked that one guy then bashed his head in during his orgasm to summon a prince of hell. There was a goat involved too, she was pretty sure. She thought that it hadn’t worked, and was secretly afraid. This was a demon, and she had summoned him, and if the Sabbat had found out, this was gonna get really hot, really quick, and probably literally. They weren’t opposed to burning Cainites at the stake, and she couldn’t be diablerized for fear of “taint”. She decided to read his aura, just to be certain, closing her eyes for just a moment, then opening them again, focusing. Sure enough, his aura was almost entirely bright green flames. There was also some other colors, though she was too startled to make them out. This was a real demon. His tail flicked. She wondered what it meant.

“I didn’t think it’d work. Isn’t this a little conspicuous? We’re in public.”

“Again, Halloween. I could ride my Dreadwheel down the road and no one would bat an eye.”

“Wh… What’s a Dreadwheel?”

“Posessed motorcycle. So, we gonna talk, or not? If not, I’m missing this episode of Murder Mansion and kinda want to get back to it.”

She glanced over to the Anarchs. It was a very small gesture, and she didn’t even do it on purpose, but he turned, craning his head to see. She put her head down on the table. He was really bad at being inconspicuous.

“They aren’t going anywhere, and I swept the area to make sure none of your noisome Inquisitors were about, so we’re fine.”

She was so not okay with this. It was bad timing, but would there be better timing? He was right. It was Halloween, and possessing a vessel just to come talk to her was probably a hassle. They had to do things like eat and worry about gravity. “Okay, I guess this is fine. What do I call you?”

“Damien.”

She blinked again. That didn’t sound very demonic. She was pretty sure she was trying to summon Ba’al. “I wasn’t looking for you.”

“Nah, but dad was busy, so he sent me. Besides, he said that I need to make a name for myself and start getting some followers of my own, so here I am. Don’t bitch. You got a demon, and I haven’t clawed your face off, so you’re already doing pretty well.”

“Dad? What are you talking about? Also, you’re pretty mouthy. Do demons get as mouthy as you?”

“Okay, so Ba’al is who you tried to summon, right? His name is actually Bill, and he’s one of my dads. The other one is Stan. They are very happy together. This isn’t rocket surgery,” he said, but he didn’t say anything about the mouthy part.

“And you’re supposed to do what I need you to do?” She asked, glancing at the boring fucks across the way. This guy was a thousand times more interesting, and kinda hot, which was her Humanity not cooperating with her desires again.

“Well, that depends on what you have to offer, so instead of negotiating about the negotiation, let’s just jump into it. This is a great segue. What do you have to offer, Virginia? You don’t have a soul. That’s claimed already.”

“First off, it’s Ginger. Second, do you even know what it is I want?” she asked, eyeing him. He shrank a little.

“Not really. I try to figure out what they are willing to offer so I can see what they are actually willing to pay. Go ahead, what is it you want? What is your heart’s desire?”

That was a weird way to put that. Her heart was a cold lump of atrophied muscle. She figured he was used to dealing with humans.

“I want power, of course. Why else would a terrifying creature of the night summon a demon? I want the power to break my enemies, live my best life, and of course, immortality would be nice.”

He listened, whistling when she was done. “You want power? That’s descriptive. Also, immortality? You’re already functionally immortal. What, do you think I’m some kind of god? I know I’m gorgeous and a sex god, but that’s not literal. I have a limit on my power too.”

She turned a little red at him chastising her. It was embarrassing, being talked down to.

“You could be less of a dick.”

“Right, cause demon princes are happy and love unicorns. Bitch, I got three loves. My bike, my dads, and fire. You aren’t any of those things, so I have no obligation to be nice to you. We’re here to do business, and I want to get it done and go home to the DVR, alright?”

Did they have DVR in Hell? This was almost surreal. “Then, give me what I want. I’m sure you know exactly what I’m looking for,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee.  
He reached a finger over and poked her on the forehead, hard. His skin was very warm and soft.

“That thing? I’ve seen it before. You want it gone. It’s some kind of symbol that other people like you put on you, right? Branding you as a traitor, literally? I don’t know much about your vampire politics, but apparently that mark can literally kill you, and I guess you’d rather not have that happen.”

“I’m not a traitor. My sire embraced me into the Sabbat. How can I be a traitor if I was never a member of the cause I was betraying?”

“Look at it from their perspective. If you’re alive, then they failed somehow, right?”

“Did you, the literal devil, just play devil’s advocate?”

He put his hands in front of him. “Whoa, slow down now. I’m not that dick. He’s the worst. Lucy can stay frozen in the eighth circle. He’s better off there. I’m a demon prince, in that my dads rule a circle of Hell, notably the one for tax fraud, and I get to take over at some point, but I’m not the king of all evil. That dude was a fucking sociopath. My dads and the others rose against him, he was so terrible.”

She had just learned more about the politics of Hell in a few moments than she had in the fifty years she had been reading about the subject. She kinda just wanted to talk to him. He was easy on the eyes, and was at least not vapid. It’d also beat the boredom of sitting here watching Anarchs play guitar and smash bottles.

“So, you can get rid of it? The whole thing, and even clean my aura? It’d definitely make my life easier.”

“I probably can. You are far from the first to make the request. There are some catches though. I can get rid of the physical mark easily. I can’t, however, remove it from anyone that you sire. They have to summon me personally and make their own deals. It’d be like handing out freebies, and we don’t do that bloodline shit anymore. It almost ruined the economy. Why curse a bloodline for one price, when you can curse each individual for the same price each time? Second, It’s gonna mark you in a different way. Just you calling me has already stained you a little. The longer you’re in my presence, and the more you pay me, the more your aura is gonna look like my own, and that pesky Inquisition may get wise. That’s why I’m trying to get this concluded. If you’re gonna pay me, It isn’t gonna do much if you’re dead. Also, we need to discuss price. This is just to remove the mark. We can deal with your other demands here in a moment.”

She thought about it. What could she offer? Her soul wasn’t a thing that was up for sale. The Beast got claim to that. Her sire knew that.

“So what do you want?” she asked, glancing again at the Anarchs. Nothing to note there. She did start to sweat though, which was an odd reaction. It was really starting to sink in. She was playing with very dangerous fire, here. She had to be careful.

He leaned back in his chair, lifting the front two feet off the ground. “What does any 22 year old demon want?”

She blinked. What did he want? She knew what most boys wanted at his age.

“Do… Do you want to have sex with me?” she asked, not entirely sure how that was going to go, though admittedly, that would be a really fun time.

He snorted. “No, I want servitude. Fucking hell, we had this talk. I’m not an incubus.”

She felt like an idiot, and started to turn red again. What the hell was wrong with her? He’s just a demon, Ginger, calm down.

“Sure, that makes sense. Servitude. I assume that means that I do a favor for you?”

“No. That’s not how it works. It means that for a set amount of years, I own your ass. When I say jump, you just jump and hope it’s high enough. This isn’t a game. You’re dealing with truly powerful forces, here. You’re asking me to undo some very powerful magic by very powerful individuals. That’s not something that I’m willing to do lightly.”

She had to give it some thought. She knew that she’d be paying for whatever she asked for, but what she really wanted was to be like him, brokering deals. She wanted to be a demon. She wondered if that was even possible. He was here, so obviously demons could procreate, and she wondered if she just wasn’t born one. Indentured servitude to a powerful being didn’t sound so bad though. He hadn’t stared at her tits, which was already a step above all of her past employers, including the Dominion of this area. What would it be like? Would it be that bad?

“So again, how much is it worth to you?”

“I’m having trouble grasping your economy. How do I know how much something is worth? For all I know, you could be tricking me.”

He hissed. It was sharp and frightening, and Ginger backed up from some kind of primal fear. She saw where cats got it, and they didn’t do it like he did. His tail came around from behind him and stabbed into the wooden table. His tail. It didn’t look that strong, or that sharp, but it gouged out a divot.

“We do not do that. The Laveys are murdering, double-crossing, arsoning badasses, but we are not liars, we are not cheaters, and we do not take advantage of other people’s ignorance. We love, we destroy, and we love to destroy, but we do not cheat. Don’t make me have to repeat that, or I’ll stick my tail straight through your throat. We clear?”  
She nodded quickly, her eyes like dinner plates. That was some kind of instinctual thing from when man was still running from things trying to eat it. It was primal, but at the same time, it was fucking sexy, and now she was horny AND confused.

“Good. So, tell me how much it’s worth to you. I’ll make sure it’s equitable.”

And there it was. He went back to being calm and collected, like he hadn’t just started an anxiety attack. She took a minute, her hands still shaking. “How’s five years?”

“Five isn’t bad. It’s definitely enough to get rid of the mark. Is that what you’re willing to pay?”

“I don’t really know what else I have to offer you. I mean, this is me doing your bidding, and you aren’t interested in sex, so like…”

For the first time since the whole meeting, she looked into his yellow eyes. They were shining with their own light, and for the briefest moment, he glanced down. It was almost imperceptible, but it happened. Maybe he was interested.

“You’re right. You don’t have much to offer. That’s the price you pay to be undead. No matter what happens, you’ll always be someone’s bitch, one way or the other.” He snapped his fingers and there was a flash of green fire, then there was a piece of paper on the table. He waved his hand over it, and the agreement appeared on it, as if it was also green fire, but in spidery handwriting. It rolled and flickered like it was. Removal of the antitribu mark for five years of servitude.

“What exactly does servitude entail?”

“Basically, I’ll give you tasks, and you complete them. It’s not all that big a deal. I can’t ask you to harm yourself or take away your bodily autonomy. Those are the rules. If a task puts you in danger though, that’s fair play.”

“Do I have to like, perform rituals or something? I don’t mind them, but I also didn’t really like fucking a stranger.”

“Well, we’re demons of lust and tax fraud. The goal was to find someone you thought was hot, and preferably a banker or some other kind of tax evader. Not my fault you picked someone you didn’t like. It’s also probably why you got me instead of my dad. A for effort, and everything, and you followed the letter of the ritual, but you didn’t follow the spirit of it.”

“It’s not like there were specific instructions or fine print, and it was written in Dacian. Do you know how hard it is to translate Dacian?”

“I don’t decide what rituals are written in. I can of course, give you others or fresh copies written in English, but there is a charge for that too. Pretty much, if you want it, I can probably get it, but you also don’t want to be indentured to a demon for a thousand years. That shit gets pricey.”

“Well, actually...” She said, then stopped. Was she about to get embarrassed again?

“Please continue, Ms. Fitzgerald.”

“What if I wanted to be a demon? Go around and make deals with people, have a cult, fuck whoever I want whenever I want. It sounds fun.”

He blinked. “Yeah, it’s rad as fuck, but it’s not nice to appropriate other cultures. Do you see me running around pale as fuck with blood dripping off my chin? Fuck you, lady. Also, no, I can’t do that. No one can do that. You either are born a demon, or you aren’t. End of story.”

She sighed.

“However…”

She blinked.

“I can give you the ability to make contracts like this. What you would be doing is acting as a middleman for me, but you get perks too, like more gifts if you give me someone particularly favorable, the ability for you to boss them around too, so long as it doesn’t contradict my orders. You can even put the fear of me in them by supernaturally harming them if they disobey you. That’s always a fun trick.”

“What, like a force choke?”

“I like your taste, but no. It’s more like a sudden and intense pain in the stomach area that hurts for days. It’s almost like being lit on fire, I’ve been told. That’s not really the important part. The important part is that I get a cult, and if I have a cult, then I need a high priest or priestess, right? And they always get the best abilities.”

“And what’s the price for that?”

“Well, it’s kind of a double edged sword. Obviously, if you are maintaining a cult to me, I can’t have you not indentured to me. So it’d be until you died, but that also means that I can give you literally anything you want that is in my power to do so. You would have to stop working for the Sabbat though, and we’d need to get rid of that pesky crescent on your hand. Besides, what are you really losing? All they have you do is watch people. Direct action is so much sweeter, and hell, you could do whatever you want, wherever you want.”

That sounded awesome, actually. He was trying to sweeten the deal with buzzwords, of course, like high priestess, but really, bare bones, it sounded like a fun time. She’d get to keep in contact with him, maintain a large group of people, and honestly, it’s what she wanted, though she didn’t have the hot demonic body that would come with it. Maybe she could find a Tzimisce though. Was she really considering this? She had been so lost in thought, she didn’t notice it at first. Someone had walked up to the Anarchs, and they were looking real concerned. She didn’t have to notice it though. What she did notice was that the man talking to them lit on fire suddenly and started screaming. The fire itself was green. She looked over there, standing and preparing to cast her own fire, but the damage was done. The Anarchs were moving, and they had celerity, so they were gone really fast. Some of the people in the street were screaming, and Damien was just checking his nails, unamused. His tail wrapped around her arm and spun her towards him. He stood when she faced him.

“Probably time to go. You’re welcome.” He put his hands in his pocket and stepped off the deck and onto the walking trail beside the Arsaga’s, turning to her.

“Wait, you did that?” she asked, looking back.

He snapped his fingers, and the contract disappeared into green fire. “Yeah, my fire is green here. I don’t know why. Demonic though. You probably don’t want to be here when the Cammies show up. Shall we?” He offered her his hand, and she took it, not really thinking. He started walking away from the scene down the trail to nowhere in particular. When he breathed, he emitted steam from his mouth, which was weird, since it wasn’t that cold. What was his internal temperature?

“So, we were discussing you serving as my high priestess,” he said, keeping a steady pace. She grabbed his hand, dragging him towards the apartments they were about to pass.  
“I live here. We can duck inside and talk there,” she said, trying to keep her eyes open for any possible Cainites. They tended to move pretty fast when demons were involved. He said nothing, but didn’t pull his hand away either, following her in. She got inside the main building, went up to the third floor, then opened the door to apartment 23. Once they were inside, she relaxed, letting go of his hand and locking the door. He looked around. It had a big kitchen, there was a balcony with a thick black curtain draped over the door to it, and there was a door open, which she stepped over to and closed, then got into the fridge and pulled out a blood bag.

“Nice house. The Sabbat pay for it?”

“Yeah, and I have no room mates. We can talk freely here.” She wasn’t going to bring up her other motive. If she chose to do this guy’s cult, she might as well be marrying for how often they’d be around each other, and she wanted to test drive the car before she bought it, but how would she say that?

He sat on the couch, and she sat next to him, but not too close. His tail swished out from behind him and settled in his lap. She almost wanted to touch it. “So, there were terms on the table.”

“I know. I want to take a break from the negotiation, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t have all day,” he said.

“I know. I just need to know something.” She decided to go for it. She put the empty blood bag on the floor then lifted herself, straddling his lap and putting her hands on his shoulders. He didn’t seem to mind, but he was definitely thinking.

“We had this talk.”

“I know we did. I still want to deal with you, but the way I see it, if I have to see your ass for the rest of my life, I want you to at least be fuckable.”

He snorted and went to protest, but she pressed her lips against his. One of his hands reached around her back to keep her supported, and the other pressed against her breast. There was a shirt and a bra in the way, but he didn’t seem to mind. He squeezed anyway. She ran her hands down his chest, wasting no time in taking the jacket off of him. She tossed it in the corner, then took off her scarf, pulling her lips away for a moment, then pressing them back against him and trying to put her tongue in his mouth. His lips parted, and she was met with a great deal of heat, and his tongue. It was forked, and she was certain that was going to feel amazing on her body. She pulled away and he bit his bottom lip, still not seeming so sure about the enterprise, but she was sure. She took off her shirt, showing him her black lacey bra. She then took it off as well, not wasting any time. She didn’t know why she was in such a rush with him, but she was.

He leaned forward and bit one of her nipples with his sharp teeth, and he drew blood. She half wondered what happened to a demon when they drank a vampire’s vitae. He didn’t seem to care, running his hot tongue against her bleeding nipple, which caused her to gasp. She arched her back, with one hand against his head and the other gripping his shirt at the shoulder. His forked tongue flicked across her nipple several times, lapping up the blood each time, then he went for the other, not biting her this time. He had very sharp teeth. She gasped again, trying to get into the feel of things. He leaned back and grabbed the hem of his shirt, then pulled it over his head and tossed it to the side. She wanted to drag her nails across his red skin, but settled for biting at his neck, half tempted to really bite. She had to will her Beast down. Without a doubt, he could light her on fire or defend himself. Instead, she grazed his neck lightly with her teeth and tongue, trying to get him to emote any kind of pleasure. It wasn’t working, really. She wondered if he even enjoyed it, or if this was just another day for him. He grabbed her hair and pulled lightly, pulling her off of him. She wasn’t really as sure of herself as she thought, even though she was soaking through her leggings. Something about fucking a demon was setting her Humanity into overdrive.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me,” she said quietly.

“I’m more amused, really. Normally I have more preamble than that,” he said quietly, obviously trying to do something to comfort her.

She stood getting off of him, but he grabbed her arm.

“I’m not offended. You don’t have to stop. This is just awkward positioning. Couches usually are, and I don’t like to bend people over the arm. I’m a little too tall for that to be an option.”

He stood, and she got a chance to take him in shirtless. He was 6’ 3” and really muscular, but not grossly so? She wasn’t normally into guys that worked out, but something about red skin made it look good. He had soft dark hair on his armpits and a trail leading from his belly button down. And yes, he had a belly button. It seemed hard to believe that demons were just born. She almost wanted to ask if he knew his mother. Probably not. He had two dads and likely doesn’t want to discuss it. His arms were strong too, and she had the sudden instinct again to tear him apart. Was this the Beast, or something else?

“I have a bed,” she said before her brain could catch up. He smiled, and she turned red. She took his hand and led him into the bedroom. It wasn’t super entertaining. It looked like a sparse bedroom with a bed, a dresser, a closet, and a desk. There was nothing in it to personalize it except a tapestry, which hung at the head of the bed. It was a big wheel of the year, with all of the major pagan holidays. She took him in, not bothering to collect her clothing and still topless, and sat on the bed. He nodded, and then pushed her over onto her back. That surprised her. Then the most pleasant sensation set her hairs on end. He was massaging her clit through her underwear AND her leggings. She had to stop from closing her legs in reaction to it. He knew what he was doing too, applying enough pleasure that she could feel it through the fabric, but not so hard that it was uncomfortable.

She lied back, letting him work, and while his hands were moving, his red tail swished over his head like a scorpion. It then came down and glided across her skin, the flat side, providing a soft almost tickling sensation, like it were his fingers. Prehensile tails had their uses. The tail flicked across one of her nipples and his hot breath was on her stomach. He started to lick and kiss her, the whole time his hand still pressing against her, and the tail gliding across her skin. He lifted his head up and the tail moved to where his mouth was. It inverted, and the tip of it dragged across the soft spot right above where her leggings and underwear sat. A small red line appeared, and it stung, then her vitae dripped out. There was something about her blood that he liked, because he put his mouth back down, lapping up the blood with his forked tongue. She didn’t know what to do, so he grabbed his one good horn, keeping her hands busy. He didn’t seem to mind, going to town on her new cut.

His hand eventually stopped, and he pulled away from her, looking her in the eye, then stood and unbuttoned his pants. They fell down, revealing black tight boxer briefs, and if that bulge was anything to go by, this was gonna be a good time. He grabbed her leggings, and she lifted, making a motion with her hips as her leggings came off that would drive a man crazy. He went for the underwear too, taking those off of her. She had never felt more exposed and closed her legs on reflex and put a knuckle in her mouth. What was she doing? Not only had she abandoned her mission, she was also about to fuck a demon. If the Inquisition knew, but they didn’t, did they? The Seraph that had put the crescent on her palm would have already ashed her. She knew what that mark was for. To not only identify her to Sabbat, but also to ash compromised agents.

“Is something wrong, Ms. Fitzgerald?” Damien asked, his tail flicking back and forth. She was trying to decipher its language. If it was anything like a normal animal’s tail, it would effectively be a mood ring.

“Just lost in thought,” she responded, going for her blanket to cover herself and feel less exposed, but his tail surged forward and wrapped around her arm, pinning it in place.  
She was scared now. What was he doing?

“None of that. Maybe I want you to feel exposed. Maybe I want to appraise you like meat.”

“Stay out of my head,” she said, clamping down on her thoughts, but she didn’t feel him in there.

“I’m not in your head. You think you’re the first person that has felt that way? Cute boys do it too. Not just you. I once knew a guy. He wanted me to help him with his homework in Spooky High. I told him he’d give me a blowjob and I’d do it. He had the same reaction. Cute guy. His name was Oz.”

“Telling me about past boyfriends is kind of a turn off,” she said, lying.

“No it’s not. I can see your aura too.” His tail loosened around her wrist, and then his hands found her knees, and he gently pulled them, apart. Then his tongue was against her clit, and she was lost in waves of pleasure. Every time that forked tongue moved, she felt a wave of sensation course through her body, and he was skilled. If he kept that up, she was gonna cum before he was even inside her, and she wanted him inside her. His hot breath was extra hot against her cold skin. She frowned and tried to focus her vitae to flow to the proper areas, so maybe she wouldn’t be like fucking a corpse. It worked, and her skin took a little color, and she started to heat up. He definitely noticed, because he paused, but not for long, and she found herself gripping his hair as he worked his tongue. Then something went inside of her.

His fingers were long and slender, and she figured that those talons on the end would hurt her or cut her, but they didn’t. She gasped, shuddering when they went inside. He hadn’t even tried to stretch her out first, but she was so wet at this point, he slipped his index and middle finger in with no trouble at all. Something about that sensation just heightened her arousal, and he didn’t go very far in. Just past the first ring of muscle. That was where the most nerves were, and he moved slowly, going in and out past that ring. Combined with his tongue on her clit, it was all over.

She spasmed as she came, feeling some fluid come out of her. He didn’t stop, making her cum even harder. She was trying not to be loud, but she couldn’t tell if she screamed or not. It didn’t really matter either way. He had accomplished his goal. He slowed, then stopped, and she laid there for a few moments, trying to get her head to stop swimming, then she scrambled and got on her knees on the floor in front of him, yanking his underwear down. He looked down at her, smiling, and she revealed his large, red cock. It wasn’t really what she was expecting. He was circumcised, but not at birth, and he had ridges, which was the oddest thing. That was going to feel amazing. He also had a nest of darkly trimmed hair around it. She grabbed it and worked it gently with her hand, trying to figure out how to do this with the ridges.

“Ribbed for your pleasure. Careful with it. It can change shapes.”

She couldn’t tell if he was joking, but she didn’t actually care all that much. That sounded like a good time, to be honest. That meant that she could do this for a long time, and it’d be different each time. She wasn’t really into twinks or anyone anywhere near her apparent age, but he was different, and she wanted to do this multiple times. She licked the length of him, then took the tip in her mouth. It was unusually hot, and as he got more aroused, he got even hotter. Temperature, not appearance. She slowly slid more of him into her mouth, and he gasped, placing one hand on her head and the other was balled into a fist and on his side. It was the first sign of pleasure that he showed, so that was good. She took her hands and grabbed his ass, pleased with how firm it was. This is why you don’t skip leg day.

She sucked on him for a few minutes, and he gasped and at one point moaned. She wondered what a demon’s cum, tasted like. She wondered if it tasted anything like a normal person’s, which was pretty unremarkable really. She wanted to know about his blood too. Something about his fluids was curious to her, but only those two. She sucked on him like she was trying to take the color off of him, and risked a look at his face. His mouth was slightly open, showing off his sharp fangs, and he had a deep purple to his cheeks. All of his erogenous zones were turning that color, actually. She popped him out of her mouth and stroked him gently, and he looked down. She then crawled onto the bed, with wanting eyes.

He grinned, then joined her, but instead of fucking her missionary, he physically picked her up and flipped her over. She got on her knees and elbows, with her ass in the air, and she was dripping again, some of the fluid dripping down her thighs. Him manhandling her was a weird kink that she didn’t know she had. Then there was the tip, pressed against her opening. He didn’t go in. Why didn’t he go in?

“Is… Is everything okay?” she asked, unsure of herself.

“Beg,” he replied calmly.

“What!?” she asked, turning red.

“Beg for my cock like the hungry slut you are,” he replied.

No. Absolutely not. She wouldn’t be humiliated like that no matter how much she liked it, and she liked it.

“Why?”

“Because I’m your master and you beg for your master’s favor. Beg. Now.”

She muttered something into her pillow. It was definitely vulgar.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he asked, pressing the tip against her opening and pushing in ever so slightly. She ached for it, but she didn’t want to tell him that.

“Please,” she said quietly.

“Louder.”

“Please?” she said louder, trying to not let her true feelings show. She wanted him in her badly, and this was just the kind of torture she craved.

“Please what?”

She sighed, trying not to get worked up, embarrassed and definitely turning red. Something about sitting here, begging for his cock with her ass in the air made her think of herself as an animal in heat.

“Please fuck me?”

“Why?”

“I want to be fucked by my master. I want to be a good little slut for him.”

Then he went in, and he went in hard. She gasped and tightened up immediately. Those ridges were amazing. He started slowly, but sped up pretty quickly. Normally she didn’t like going fast, but he was skilled, and it didn’t hurt. He rammed his cock into her again and again, and her tits bounced with every thrust. The slapping of his thighs against her ass was an amazing sound, and one of his hands reached around her and grabbed one of her breasts. She pushed herself up a little further, giving him better reach and making sure his cock could get all the way in there. Then his tail went to work, wrapping around her and pressing into her clit, massaging it. God, she was going to cum again, and she wanted to. She wanted to cum all over him, and she wanted him to cum inside of her and claim her. It was something so primal. She could feel herself getting close again, every sensation bringing her closer and closer to the edge. One of his hands tangled in her hair and pulled hard.

“Beg me to cum.”

“Oh my fuck, please! Please Damien!”

“Then cum,” he said, and she did, as if on command. She spasmed, but he didn’t slow down. He sped up. He was ramming into her and every nerve inside of her was on fire with pleasure. She went limp in her arms, burying her face in a pillow as she uncontrollably orgasmed and came all over his dick. There was so much. It dripped down her thighs, and her thighs burned. He still didn’t stop. She could feel the sensation coming again, and then she came again, screaming his name into her pillow. Then there was something hot, almost like fire inside of her. His talons gripped her ass, drawing some more blood, and he breathed heavily, slowing down gradually. Eventually, he stopped, and she could feel him pull out, then the fire dribbled out of her and onto the bed. It was his semen. His semen was as hot as boiling water. It wasn’t unpleasant though. She expected it to scald her or something, but it didn’t. She felt his weight land softly on the bed beside her.

After a few minutes, she slowly lowered herself, absolutely spent. No one had ever made her cum twice in rapid succession like that. She ached. Her hole ached, her thighs ached, her arms ached, and she felt completely and totally satisfied and bought and paid for. She could feel him beside her, and his hand softly touched her back and scratched it gently. She felt like a good girl for the first time in her damned life.

“So, about that contract,” he said.

**Author's Note:**

> Remember to hit the Kudos button if you liked it! The more kudos I get, the more I figure out what people like, and I can produce more work like it. Always hit that button if you like it!


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